


many cups of tea

by readythefanons



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Falling In Love, Futanari, Masturbation, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-27 16:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readythefanons/pseuds/readythefanons
Summary: It sounded like a joke:Lon’qu was so uncomfortable around women, the only woman he could ever fall for was not even human!But Panne was a woman, at least by the metric of Lon’qu’s own phobia. She was an odd woman, to be sure, but a woman nonetheless.How Lon'qu fell for Panne.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look, it's the Lon'qu/Panne hermaphroditic love story nobody asked for! In which humans are fully hermaphroditic and each person goes through a heat and a rut cycle, yet there's nowhere near as much sex as I planned when I started this story. But there's some spicy yearning so there's that. Because of EMOTIONS. I'd describe it as _barely_ explicit. 
> 
> And it's not quite an a/b/o story, but it's... related? If regular a/b/o stories were kangaroos and wallabys, this story would be a... possum? There are heats and ruts, at least, but actual a/b/o social roles aren't carried over. But nobody actually goes into heat or rut during the story so *throws up hands*

It sounded like a joke: _Lon’qu was so uncomfortable around women, the only woman he could ever fall for was not even human!_ But Panne was a woman, at least by the metric of Lon’qu’s own phobia. She was an odd woman, to be sure, but a woman nonetheless.

On campaign, though, avoiding all women was a luxury that really couldn’t be afforded. Lon’qu was around women all the time—the tactician was a woman, their primary healer was a woman, everywhere he looked there were women. The armies Lon’qu had served in before had had women, but they hadn’t been so omnipresent. For the first time in his adult life, Lon’qu just had to… deal with his fear. 

(And, of course, each woman in this army, one and all, had seemed to have heard of his aversion and made it her personal mission to cure—or at least test—him. What was it about this army that attracted such stubborn people?)

But there was Panne: after Lon’qu’s awkward attempt to return her dropped bag, she had turned around and brewed him tea. She suffered from terrible nightmares, as did Lon’qu. Her species set her apart, as Lon’qu often felt because of his phobia and cultural background. She was ferocious on the battlefield, and Lon’qu liked no one better to fight by his side. Over many cups of tea and many nights sharing a fire, he came to value her company more than any other’s. 

He didn’t realize it at first. The knowledge grew in him slowly, pushing up shoots and slyly unfurling its leaves. After the confusion that followed any battle, Panne was the first person he sought out. Vaike, of all people, was the one to point it out. 

“If you’re looking for Panne, she’s yonder,” he said, pointing with a thumb towards the healer’s tent. The axe-wielder had a neat bandage on his forearm and looked cheerful enough. Lon’qu’s pulse quickened uncomfortably. “Took a spear to the leg; Lissa didn’t seem worried,” Vaike added, gesturing to his upper thigh. He cocked an eyebrow at Lon’qu. “It did sound like she wanted some privacy, though. We could swing by the mess tent and bring her something.” They did. Panne was sitting with Miriel outside Lissa’s tent. Miriel had her _fascinated!_ face on, and Panne had her patient _humans are strange_ face on, which was different from her irritated _humans are strange_ face or her bored _humans are strange_ face. 

“And you swear that all your people are like this?” Miriel pressed.

“I didn’t personal observe each and every one, no,” Panne was saying. “But I honestly have no memory of horrors such as you described, and I was given every reason to expect this as normal for taguel.”

“There ya are!” Vaike called. “Lon’qu was worried sick!” Lon’qu scowled at his supposed friend. 

“I was not,” he corrected his companion. Vaike rolled his eyes and shot a look at Miriel, who completely failed to reciprocate. “I heard you were injured, and Vaike suggested we bring you some food.”

“Thank you,” Panne said, accepting the bowl. Lon’qu assessed her. She looked tired, perhaps more than usual after a battle. A clean, white bandage wrapped around the top of her left leg and disappeared under her shorts. Her hair was down, combed back, and her ears were free. They twitched as she returned his gaze, and Lon’qu looked away quickly. His face felt warm—he’d better not be coming down with an illness in the middle of a campaign. They passed time until Lissa emerged from her tent shepherding a battered-looking Donnel. They helped their tired comrades back to the mess tent and spent the evening in comfortable conversation. 

 

Lon’qu’s feelings continued to grow. A few times in the past, he’d wondered what it would be like to _fall in love,_ damaged as he was, and he’d always assumed, practically, that the whole thing would be rather traumatizing: his heart gripped with fear, giddy highs and deep chasms of despair, and so on. Instead it was just… there. It happened as gently as the change in seasons. And like the change in seasons, sometimes the transition was totally imperceptible and sometimes he looked up and, metaphorically, noticed that there was mud everywhere and the trees were green with new buds. It was a lot less like falling and a lot more like… well, living through change. 

The songs and poems were wrong this way, too: it didn’t really matter whether his feelings were reciprocated. Realistically, Lon’qu figured, they weren’t. Lon’qu was a mess of issues, and he was under no illusions about his own desirability. But it didn’t really matter that Panne probably didn’t feel like _that_ about him because she obviously liked him, liked his company, and cared about him. When she smiled, he found himself smiling back without hesitation. When they sat side by side next to a fire, by themselves or with other people, Lon’qu fancied he was warmed by her company as much as by the dancing flames. When she passed him a cup of tea or asked him for some of his own blend, his heart gave a pleasant flutter. Lon’qu didn’t think Panne was going to stop welcoming his company any time soon, and if he could enjoy that there didn’t seem much to be unhappy about.

 

 

Lon’qu was so comfortable with the way things were that he never considered what he would do if his feelings were, impossibly, returned. So he shouldn’t, he felt, be entirely blamed for not realizing what was happening earlier.

“Lon’qu! I’m glad you’re okay,” Panne said, rushing up to him outside the medical tent. Lon’qu had collapsed during the most recent battle after taking a deep cut to the shoulder. Maribelle had been able to stabilize him, but there hadn’t been time to heal him until after the battle was ended. 

Lon’qu barely remembered not to shrug. “Maribelle patched me up with a minimum amount of lecturing for my foolishness,” he said.

“What is the minimum?” Panne demanded. 

“None,” Lon’qu said, smiling at the joke. For a moment, she looked angry, then she shook her head and smiled softly. 

“That was unkind,” she admonished. “You worried me.” 

“Me?” Lon’qu asked. Panne came closer into his space, causing his heart to give a now-familiar flutter. 

“I know Maribelle is quite skilled, but even if it were Lissa herself I would worry if you fell in battle,” she said. She was wearing her _humans are foolish_ face, but for some reason it made Lon’qu feel breathless. She leaned closer, almost breathing the same air as him. “I fear I’ll always worry about you, but I am thankful you are so strong in battle.” The moment stretched. 

Lon’qu wanted to—do something, he didn’t know what. Touch her ears, which were still bound up in her hair. Make her touch his face somehow. Figure out what her expression meant, for it was deeper and harder to understand than any of her _humans are such and such_ faces he’d seen before. After what seemed like an eternity, she cocked her head and sighed. The space between them seemed larger again. “I am glad you are well,” she said. They walked to the mess tent.

 

 

“I cannot believe I’m about to ask this—of you of all people—but I need your help,” Lon’qu announced. Vaike, who was sharpening his axes, looked up. 

“You know you can always come to Teach when you need help,” he started to say. Lon’qu held up a hand. In his other hand, he carried a bottle of potent liquor. Lon’qu nodded to the axes.

“You’d better put those away.” 

 

“So you’re telling me,” Vaike half-said half-shouted some time later, “That you wanna, like, sniff Panne’s hair, and that’s fine, but when she, _she_ seems like she maybe wants ta, wanna sniff your hair too, that’s a problem?”

“There will be no sniffing,” Lon’qu objected. “None at all!”

“Fine, fine, you wanna, like, follow her around like a puppy for the rest of your born life, like that’s better,” Vaike grumbled. He swiped for the bottle and missed. “’Cept she’s a rabbit so she prob’ly doesn’t like dogs. Like a carrot, maybe.” 

“Shut up,” Lon’qu said. “She doesn’t like carrots.” 

“But, like, like, the problem isn’t that you like her, it’s that maybe she likes you back? And for this you get me drunk?” 

“I admit to—nothing.”

“Just kiss her, stupid,” Vaike said, swiping the bottle and knocking over his empty cup in the process. “Like, kiss her. Onna face. Maybe lick her a bit, I dunno.” Lon’qu wanted to wrinkle his nose at the suggestion, but his face didn’t seem to be responding right. 

“No,” he finally said instead. 

“Miriel likes it,” Vaike volunteered. 

“Miriel’s, she’s, it’s different,” Lon’qu said. “Also—and, if I licked her, I might die.” His heart was already pounding at the thought of getting so close, although that could maybe be the alcohol at this point. Vaike sat up straight. 

“She’s poison?!” 

“If I licked her, I would explode,” Lon’qu said firmly. “I’d just, pah!” He mimed an explosion. “And, and what if she thought I wanted to, you know, lick her more? That’d be bad.” 

“No, it’d be good. It means she’d lick you back!” Vaike said eagerly. “She totally wants to, yanno, kiss you and stuff, man. I can tell. She was all petting you when you got hurt the last time.” Lon’qu felt hot all over. 

“That is called—patting me down for injuries,” Lon’qu corrected. “’S diff’rent.” 

“Don’t you like it? I like petting,” Vaike said, nodding sagely. “Feels nice. Makes me feel like a fuzzy animal all warm and snuggly.” 

“I’m not snuggly,” Lon’qu said darkly. “’M a myrmidon. Deadly. Fast. Expensive.” 

“You could snuggle Panne. She’d like it. She looks like she could use a snuggle,” Vaike said, speaking of a woman nearly six feet tall who could kick the spine out of an armored warrior. 

“She would crush me,” Lon’qu said. He sighed. “But that’s not—you’re supposed to be helping me. What do I do?”

“You like her. She likes you. Kiss her,” Vaike said stubbornly. 

“Nooooo,” Lon’qu said, drawing the syllable out. It felt funny in his throat. He laughed. 

“Hold her hand?” Vaike suggested. Lon’qu shrugged and closed his eyes. Her hands were probably warm. It would probably feel nice. 

 

 

Long after the hangover—and attendant embarrassment—had faded, bits and pieces of that conversation continued to creep into Lon’qu’s consciousness. He and Panne sparred somewhat regularly, and sometimes he couldn’t help but notice how warm her hands were when she helped him up or vice versa. 

The problem, as always, was Lon’qu. And possibly the joyroot. Humans underwent two different fertility cycles—heat and rut. Men generally had stronger ruts than heats and women generally had stronger heats than ruts, but exceptions abounded. Although the cycles were predictable, they could be very inconvenient. At the peak of either cycle, it was almost impossible to think of anything but sex, and physical distress could result if the desire was not met. Throughout Ylisse, joyweed was used to manage one’s cycles. Prepared in a tea, joyweed could reduced the intensity of the peaks of both cycles and act as a contraceptive. A person who took joyweed had very mild peaks in their cycles and could participate in day-to-day life almost completely normally. The plant could also be prepared in a stronger brew: joy _root_. Joyroot brew banished the cycles altogether—which was why Lon’qu preferred it. 

Lon’qu had never been comfortable with his cycles. Even with the dampening effect of joyweed he found the attendant thoughts and urges to be… uncomfortable. After going to bed with a few partners, he found it easier to just take care of himself. And, frankly, he found masturbation to be something between a tedious chore and a frivolous hobby. Joyroot was better—so much better—because under its influence, Lon’qu felt no urges at all. It was a relief, and the thought of going back to having all those feelings was deeply unappealing. 

But now, even with the joyroot in his system, Lon’qu found his thoughts wandering. Standing next to Panne in the training yard, he got distracted by the fur that started at her hips, continued under her shorts, and ended on her legs. It looked soft and plush. The boy Ricken got his first hit on Lon’qu when the swordsman was trying not to think of how it might feel against his skin. 

Panne leaned forward when she transformed. How had Lon’qu never noticed how much she bent over? How could anyone allow this? To see her with her hands on the ground, legs straight, posterior in the air… it really was too much. It was a relief when she assumed her quadrupedal form, but it did nothing to alleviate his desire to press his face against her fur.

Lon’qu woke up hard for the first time in five years after he noticed how much Panne bent over to transform. He writhed miserably in his bedroll, aching for release but unable to give it to himself. The next morning, with a foul temper and shaking hands, he sought out Lissa. 

“Well, to be honest, it’s almost impossible to say whether the tea is losing its efficacy,” Lissa said after he’d explained the problem. “I _can _tell you that what you described is unusual. Even on joyroot, most people still experience some degree of attraction and arousal—it’s just not persistent or keyed to their fertility cycles. Experiencing _no_ attraction or arousal for an extended period… that’s unusual, I’d say. People who are taking joyroot for the first time sometimes experience a deadening of their sex drive, but it usually doesn’t last more than a few months. Of course, until now, I haven’t met many people who take the stuff longer than six months at a time, and I haven’t met anyone who took it longer than a year.” __

__“So I’m on my own?” Lon’qu asked, feeling miserable. Lissa smiled at him and passed him a cup of herbal tea._ _

__“Of course not,” she said. “My advice is to just monitor the situation. I’ll talk to Chrom and Robin about keeping you off the front lines. If the joyroot _is_ losing its efficacy, you’ll probably start undergoing microheats or microrut. That won’t be pleasant, but it won’t be fatal.” _ _

__“What if it stops working?” Lon’qu asked. He clutched the tea tightly, trying to let the warmth soothe him._ _

__“Then we’ll find somewhere safe for you to come off it completely,” Lissa said simply. “A city or village, or an isolated spot in the woods with people you trust, if it comes to that. If you stop drinking the root, your body’s natural cycles will resume. If you let a whole heat and rut run its course, you can probably start taking joyweed or joyroot again and expect full efficacy. As your healer, of course, I would encourage you to switch from joyroot to joyweed as soon as possible and to avoid the strong stuff for at least a year, but—”_ _

__“No,” Lon’qu said firmly, shaking his head. Lissa shrugged._ _

__“I guessed you’d say that,” she said. “At least let me give you an overall healing. If something’s going wrong inside your body, it should at least delay it for a while longer.” The young princess gave him such an understanding look that Lon’qu bowed his head._ _

__“Thank you,” he whispered._ _

__

__

__The healing fixed up the stiffness in his shoulder he hadn’t noticed and the sore ankle he hadn’t told anyone about, but it didn’t seem to do much for clearing his head. Lon’qu still had thoughts about Panne, and he still didn’t know what to do about them._ _

__It was Miriel who helped, although she didn’t know it. She was investigating different ways to bait game traps and talking at length about the difficulty of establishing a baseline—and it hit him. He’d been comparing the way he felt now with how he’d felt, oh, a year ago, when the joyroot was working perfectly and everyone around him was somewhere between fine and annoying. He should be looking for comparisons between how he felt now and how he used to feel before he started taking the joyroot at all. His heats and ruts, undiminished, had felt like he was burning up from the inside. He would have crawled out of his skin for relief, never mind lusting after what felt like every random passer-by. With the milder joyweed to dampen it, his fertile periods were full of distracted thoughts and—at the peak—a hunger of the flesh that felt nearly insatiable. What he was feeling now was closer to the latter—annoying, but ultimately manageable—than the former. He tried to relax._ _

__Sparring with Panne became something between a trial and an illicit thrill. He didn’t need Miriel jabbering about patterns and trends to figure out that if he went one-on-one with Panne during the day, he could be sure of restless dreams and rebellious flesh that night. He tossed and turned in his bedroll, never quite comfortable enough to get himself off, and felt like a surly teenager in the mornings._ _

__Panne noticed. Of course she did. She looked at him thoughtfully, eyeing the circles under his eyes and the slump of his shoulders._ _

__“Lon’qu,” she said. Her soft voice startled him, but there was no one else sharing their fire. “Is the tea not working like it once was?” For a moment, Lon’qu thought she was referring to joyroot, and icy, adolescent panic washed through him._ _

__“Ah—no,” he said. “No, your nightmare-banishing tea still works wonderfully.” And it did. It had been many months since he’d had a nightmare. The realization was startling. She passed him a fresh cup, and he cradled it in his hands. The smell had once been unappealing—bitter and unfamiliar—but now he breathed in the steam and felt himself relax. They’d started sharing other brews after their nightly cup of the nightmare banisher, some from Lon’qu’s collection and others from Panne’s stores. Perhaps tomorrow night, Lon’qu would unearth the very small bag he carried of his favorite brew._ _

__

__Panne had already brewed the nightmare banisher when Lon’qu found her by the first the next night. Lon’qu accepted a cup from her and drank deeply. The flavor was slightly different, less green and more smoky._ _

__“I’m adjusting the mix,” Panne said, watching his face. “Altering it slightly keeps the effect strong even as your body becomes used to the tea.” Lon’qu nodded. Very wise._ _

__There had been no battles that day, so he and Panne spoke of the army’s progress through the countryside and the sights the landscape had provided. When their cups were empty, Lon’qu produced his own tea._ _

__“This is the best tea in any land,” he said, counseling his own face to stay serious. Panne smiled, and he smiled back helplessly before schooling his face to sternness once more._ _

__“Brave words for ignorant man-spawn,” she said. She raised a brow, but her eyes glittered with mirth. “If you are so confident in your people’s brew, I suppose I must sample it.”_ _

__“I would stake my honor and that of my people on it,” Lon’qu told her._ _

__“Indeed. Your life is forfeit if you lie,” Panne said. She accepted the cup and sniffed the tea before taking a gentle sip. Both brows rose, and she took a longer sip. “Quite delicious,” she said. “You survive another day, human.” They smiled broadly at such silliness and drank the tea in silence. When both cups were empty, Panne leaned and sighed contentedly. “Quite delicious,” she repeated. “I could drink it every day.”_ _

__Lon’qu looked down, feeling his cheeks heat. “I would make it every day, but the mix is hard to find outside of Ferox.” Panne tapped his leg with her toes._ _

__“Whenever you care to share it, I will be happy to drink it,” she said. With a smile, she added, “And there are so many interesting plants to sample in the meantime.” Lon’qu felt that not all of her ‘forest mixes’ were equally successful, and had told her so. She maintained that even the bitterest, grainiest brew was worth sampling once. It was already becoming a well-worn point of debate since Panne so often supplied their teas. They smiled at each other and listened to the sounds of the night._ _

__

__Lon’qu had not suffered from nightmares since Panne started sharing her tea with him._ _

__His dreams took a distinctly more carnal focus once she changed the blend. Night after night Lon’qu woke with his heart pounding, his face flushed, and his body aching for touch._ _

__The dreams were varied at least. He dreamed that he and Panne sparred, and between one moment and the next she pressed him to his back and opened his robes to put her hands on his bare chest. He arched under her touch as she kissed the side of his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He was lying naked in a grassy field while Panne stroked his body and kissed everywhere she could reach. Her eyes burned into his as she sank onto his cock, her own erection jutting up proudly against her belly. He groaned at the heat of her body and reached a hand to stroke her cock. Lon’qu woke after that, achingly hard and shockingly slick between his legs._ _

__Lon’qu dreamed that Panne pressed him against the wall of an inn. The long shadows of gathering twilight hid them as she kissed him, her body a long line of heat against his front. He moaned as she nipped his neck, and she shushed him with a smile. Their comrades, unseen, came and went from the inn, talking and laughing. In the darkness of in the alley next to the inn, Lon’qu hooked a leg around her and they ground against each other._ _

__He dreamed that Panne knelt on the floor, smiling at him over her shoulder. Bracing her weight with one hand, she used her free hand to spread herself. Lon’qu knelt behind her, mesmerized by the way her slit glistened invitingly. She shook her hips at him, and he settled his hands on her hips. The fur that covered her hips was soft and thick. Her body gripped him tightly as he entered her in one stroke. He stroked her cock as he fucked her, and she spurred him on. Their climax drew near, and she batted away his hand to stroke herself frantically. Lon’qu woke to sticky pants and groaned unhappily when he realized he was going to have to do another batch of midnight laundry._ _

__Occasionally, Lon’qu dreamed of people other than Panne. A few times it was Basilo, a few times it was Chrom, and once it was Robin as a man. After the second night when Lon’qu dreamed of entering Panne while another man writhed on her cock, Lon’qu considered refusing the nightmare-away tea altogether. Surely dreams of carnage and death were preferable. Neither sex dreams nor nightmares permitted him any rest at all._ _

__He shook his head. That was foolishness. Stifling another yawn, he saw Vaike giving him an uncharacteristically shrewd look._ _

__“You look like crap,” Vaike said. Lon’qu made a rude gesture and leaned his head on one hand. The sky was just starting to brighten. He and Vaike were waiting for water boil for their daily cups of tea: a cup of joyweed or -root, followed by a much larger cup of wake-up tea._ _

__“Not sleeping well,” Lon’qu said shortly._ _

__“What happened to the nightmare tea you and Panne were drinking?” Vaike asked._ _

__“She changed the blend,” Lon’qu said with a sigh._ _

__“And it stopped working?”_ _

__“Something like that.”_ _

__“Ask her to change it back,” Vaike said._ _

__“She says you need to change the blend periodically or it stops working,” Lon’qu explained. “There are a few recipes she rotates between.”_ _

__“But it’s not working anyway. If she changes it again, maybe it’ll work again,” Vaike pointed out. Lon’qu blinked at the other man. That… actually made sense. He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly._ _

__“I’m a moron,” Lon’qu announced._ _

__

__“I’m a fool,” Panne sighed. It was late afternoon, and Lon’qu had finally had time to catch her and make his request. Before Lon’qu could object—Panne was intelligent, agile, incredibly strong, and generous—she continued, “I noticed you were looking tired, but it didn’t occur to me that it was the tea. All the variations work equally well for me, but this one might not work for humans and taguel. I’ll mix a new blend tonight.” She put a hand on Lon’qu’s arm and looked into his eyes. “Truly, I am sorry. I would never want to cause you grief.” Lon’qu patted her hand and had to force himself not to hold it there._ _

__“If you’re a fool, then I must be one as well. Vaike was the one who pointed out that I could ask you to change the blend.”_ _

__“Both of us fools and Vaike the wisest around. This is a sad day for us.” Panne laughed, squeezed his arm, and let it drop. Lon’qu’s heart fluttered pleasantly._ _

__“A sad day indeed. Let us never speak of it again.”_ _

__“Agreed.”_ _

__That night, the new nightmare banisher was wintry with pine and deliciously spiced. Lon’qu drank deeply and slept without dreams._ _


	2. scratching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lon'qu said he didn't like being scratched. He wasn't being totally honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _For the kink bingo square "scratching." [Worldbuilding, such as it is: Although each human has a penis and vagina, taguel only have a vagina or a penis. (Panne has a vagina.)]_
> 
>  
> 
> _Set in the future after the war, when Lon'qu and Panne have had time to work through their issues and Lon'qu has embraced the fact that he likes getting fucked, yes he does. Oh, and they got married and have a cottage now._

Panne liked being lightly scratched behind her ears and on the back of her neck. Sometime after Lon’qu and Panne started getting physically intimate but before the end of the war, Panne learned that Lon’qu did not. They were stealing time together in Lon’qu’s tent. She made a happy noise in the back of her throat as she explored his mouth with her tongue. She was lying on her back and he was half on top of her. His erection was a warm weight against her thigh. With another content noise, she gently scratched the back of his neck. 

He broke their kiss, pulling away sharply. Panne froze. 

“Bad?” she asked. Lon’qu’s eyes were wide, his attention turned inward.

“Ah—not…sure?” he said after a moment. He met her eyes and shrugged with one shoulder. It had been a long time since he’d been with another person, and Panne had never done this with a human. They were learning each other’s bodies and, to an extent, their own. He resettled himself on top of her and resumed their kiss. At his suggestion, in the spirit of investigation, she gently scratched the back of his neck again. He shuddered against her, pressing his face against her neck. She stopped. 

“More?” he said, face still buried against her neck. Gingerly, she curled her fingers. He squirmed against her, hips grinding against her leg, and pushed himself up onto all fours so they weren’t touching anywhere. “Perhaps not,” he said, not meeting her eyes. Panne gently laid her hands on his waist and patted his sides. 

“No, I think not,” she agreed. 

 

Much later, after the war ended and Lon’qu had stopped drinking joyroot, the subject came up again. 

They were in their house, not a tent. Panne was propped up by a mound of pillows, and Lon’qu was more than half on top of her. She was gently petting the hair on the back of his head—it had been a while since his last hair cut—when he kissed her nose and smiled.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “You like this so much…” he scratched Panne lightly behind the ear. She made a show of pressing into the touch, a smile on her lips. “Maybe I should try it?”

“I thought you didn’t like it?” she asked. Lon’qu shrugged, eyes darting away and then back. 

“I’d like to revisit it,” he said. His cheeks were a little pink in that way that always made her want to kiss him, so she did. 

As they kissed, she let one hand rest lightly on the back of his neck. Lon’qu rocked his hips encouragingly as Panne kissed him. His body was thrumming with arousal. Panne’s fingers on his neck were making an enjoyable tension—a little apprehension, but mostly anticipation—skitter down his spine. When she did finally crook her fingers, letting her nails drag along his skin, his reaction was all out of proportion with the small movement. He was caught, helpless, between wanting _more_ , wanting her inside him and his old, fading instinct to push away anything that made him want that. He clung to her. Panne froze. 

“Okay?” she asked, voice level. Lon’qu nodded rapidly. His face was pressed against the side of her neck, and he wondered if she could feel the heat of his flush. She moved her fingers again, and Lon’qu stopped caring about whether his wife knew he was blushing. 

It was—itself, maybe not that arousing, but it made Lon’qu want to be fucked. It—he—it was hard to think of anything except how much he wanted something long and thick pressing into him. Panne, she—she was always so good to him, made him feel so good, he was so wet the tops of his thighs were slick and she hadn’t even put her fingers in him yet—

(No wonder he’d asked her not to do this, back when he was practically in denial about _having_ a vagina, much less wanting a nice thick cock in it.) 

“It’s-- _ah_ —it’s good,” Lon’qu panted. “ _Oh,_ it, I like it.” His face was still pressed snugly against Panne’s neck, but he knew she would feel better if he said something. “Better than I—thought.” A whine escaped his throat and he writhed. His pussy had to be dripping by now, and his cock felt so good as he ground it against her leg. 

She let her fingers wander down to the nape of his neck and up to the bottom of his hairline. More sounds escaped him. She tugged gently at his hair— _yes, yes_ —applying pressure until he tilted his heat back. Her expression was intent as she studied him. Could she see how badly he wanted to be fucked? The notion sent an agreeable shudder through him. She kissed him, deliberate and filthy. He whined into the kiss and got his legs so he was straddling her thigh. His hips moved of their own accord—not grinding his cock against her but jerking back and up in invitation. 

“ _Oh_ ,” she said, voice rough. “It’s like that, is it?” Lon’qu pressed his face against her collarbones and nodded. He tried to peek at her expression, the angle was wrong. “Use your words,” she ordered softly, almost lazily. Another agreeable shudder went through him. 

“I like it,” he panted. “It—I want you to fuck me. Now?” Panne flipped them, manhandling Lon’qu so he was laying on his back on the bed, legs spread. Panne was kneeling between them, her thighs bracing him open. He tried not to make impatient noises as she kissed him. He plucked at her shirt. She pinned his arms next to his head and kept kissing him. He squirmed, hooking his legs around her hips and grinding against where her cock would be if she had one. Kissing was well and good, but he felt like he was drowning in how much he wanted this. 

Finally, she relented, leaning back to remove her shirt. Instead of waiting for her to undress him, Lon’qu squirmed out of his own clothes, flinging them carelessly to the floor. He turned over so he was facing the bed and spread his knees. If he were less out of his mind with arousal, the thought of presenting himself like this might be embarrassing—but desire made him shameless, and Lon’qu arched his back to better display his ass and dripping pussy. He was no better than an animal in heat, and the thought made his cock and pussy twitch. 

Panne set a hand on his hip and let the other trail up the back of his thigh. “Now, now, please,” he begged. He whined mindlessly as her fingers teased his outer folds. Something touched his opening—a knuckled—but didn’t press in. “Ah! _Please!_ ” 

“So wet.” She sounded breathless. Lon’qu didn’t care. The hand teasing his pussy disappeared and he felt her lips. She was kissing his hip, his thigh—maybe she’d eat him out? He spread his knees wider in anticipation, arching his back to put himself further on display. 

Her mouth disappeared from his skin and her hand dropped away. The bed shifted. She was moving away from him. He bit his lip and counseled what little brain he had left to wait—observe. He blinked open heavy eyes and saw her leaning off the bed to reach into the drawer of their nightstand. That was where they kept their toys. Her hand emerged with the harness and reached back in. Lon’qu closed his eyes. Good. He squirmed as he waited. 

Somehow, they had accumulated multiple objects for this purpose. With his eyes closed, Lon’qu didn’t know which phallus Panne had selected. Another breathless noise escaped him as she positioned herself behind him. One hand rested on his hip. Something pressed against his opening. 

Lon’qu moaned in satisfaction as the toy—one of their bigger ones, _oh_ —entered him. Panne slid in with one long thrust. Usually, she paused after filling him for the first time, but today she immediately went to fucking him. The toy—it was so good, so _thick,_ it was impossible to think past how deep her cock was and how full she made him feel. Her hands were on Lon’qu’s hips, and she was pounding him, filling him again and again. He was taking it perfectly, moaning like a heated-up sub, unable to think of anything but her cock. 

She fucked him hard, relentless, just the way he needed. His first orgasm hit quickly, his cock jerking against this stomach and striping his belly and the bed with cum. He was already so far gone that he barely noticed, except that his voice stuttered he came. Panne groaned and bent over him, kissing his shoulder and back. She got a hand on the back of his neck, pressing his head against the mattress and shifting her hand until she could get her nails in his neck. He came with his pussy not long after that, voice tight and desperate—and then silent as his muscles clenched around Panne’s cock. She kept pounding him even as his body clenched around her. The sharp sensation of her nails on his skin grounded him and—impossibly—made him feel more like he was losing himself in sensation. He came again, and Panne kept one hand on his neck and scraped the nails of her other hand down his back and sides. He came. He was almost sobbing with pleasure, gasping _yes, more,_ anything to keep her from stopping. The waves of his orgasms bled into each other until it was impossible to know how many times he’d come.  
She slowed and he begged her to keep going. His voice was ragged by the time he was satisfied, and he murmured for her to stop. He shivered with aftershock as she eased out of him, and another aftershock took him as she helped him roll onto his side. His eyelids were impossibly heavy as he watched her shimmy out of the harness and walk, naked, toy in hand, to the other room. His mind drifted and did not return to dock until the bed shifted with Panne’s return. 

“Successful experiment?” he asked sleepily. Exhaustion slurred his words so much that it took Panne a second to decipher his comment.

“Very successful,” she said. Her body was warm and comforting against his, and Lon’qu slept.

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be my first entry for the 15kinks bingo I signed up for, but I don't think it's actually explicit enough to count so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
